


Type A

by burymeinziam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Casual Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeinziam/pseuds/burymeinziam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which zayn is young and pretty and Liam doesn’t usually do these things. </p><p>(or what i end up writing when im sick and its 2:30 in the morning and i feel like making words)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Type A

“It’s sort of like psychology, you know?”

He’s trying to sound smart and it would be working if Liam didn’t know that he was lying.

It was obvious in the way he kept using words like

Perfunctory and scintillating and equivocate.

None of them made much sense, but then again Liam wasn’t trying to sound like a 19th century poet.

Maybe this kid, Zayn, maybe he’s just drunk and remembering words he’d heard in his honors English class.

He’s pretty though, a daydreamer with big honey colored eyes and a dazzling smile and he knows his way around a cigarette.

Zayn makes Liam nervous in a way that makes his knees wobble and his hands shake.

He makes Liam feel as though he needs another red solo cup or a hit off of the joint those two guys are smoking on the back porch.

Liam doesn’t even smoke.

But Zayn speaks soft like every word is a secret and he keeps touching Liam’s arm and laughing even though nothing Liam says is anywhere close to being funny.

But he also talks too much about things Liam doesn’t quite understand

(or maybe he just doesn’t care to)

And he keeps using words that don’t fit and if Liam is being completely honest maybe Zayn is also a tad bit obnoxious

But he looks so pretty when he’s handing Liam another drink

Or two

Or three

Or four

And Liam likes him even more when he’s looking at him through eyes that aren’t quite his own.

It’s just one of those things.

One of those times.

And Zayn is one of those boys.

“Are you listening?” He’s asking and his words are running together like unsupervised children at a playground

Or a birthday party

Or maybe even both

Liam doesn’t really care because it’s just a stupid simile.

He shrugs his shoulders and laughs even though nothing is really funny and Zayn is just as drunk as Liam is so he’s laughing to and pretty soon they’ve both forgotten what Zayn had been asking in the first place.

When things calm down they both sort of stand there and Zayn is looking at Liam with this dazed expression and Liam is starting to think that Zayn might kiss him

He doesn’t think he would mind.

But then Zayn is only asking him to dance and even though Liam doesn’t really do that sort of thing he finds himself nodding.

“Why the hell not?”

Zayn is a good dancer

The kind that makes things look inappropriate but feel absolutely amazing.

In a word: Free

His hands are in the air and his head is thrown back and he’s sort of moving his hips with Liam and

Well

Liam is just moving the best he knows how.

He bets people are looking around and wondering why he’s dancing with the pretty boy with the messy black hair and the wide eyed smile.

Why Liam is dancing with him and why he isn’t smoking too when he pulls out a cigarette

Why doesn’t Liam light it for him and why the hell is he coughing when this pretty boy blows smoke in his face.

“Sorry,” he says and lowers his hand, tapping ash onto the carpet.

Liam waves him off, plucks the cigarette from his fingers and takes a drag just to prove himself

Just to fit in

How juvenile.

Liam’s surprised he doesn’t cough.

They stand there for a while no longer dancing so much as swaying in time with the music

They pass the cigarette back and forth and Zayn laughs when Liam coughs on the third try

And then he says something about wanting to go home

“Okay” Liam says

And then Zayn grins and it’s devilish

Says

“I want you to come with me.”

Liam doesn’t usually do these things

This leaving hand in hand

Giggling on the way to the car and

Stealing kisses on the ride home and

Running red lights and

Stumbling up and down stairs and

And

And

That.

That _this_  that is happening.

This movement between sheets and

The closing of eyelids and the

Loss of space between lips.

This dream like feeling of Euphoria.

Nirvana.

Ecstasy.

Liam thinks he falls in love far too easy.

“I kind of like you,” Zayn is saying as he moves off of the bed carrying the sheet with him.

It’s wrapped around him like he’s a gift and Liam doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything prettier.

But he also feels cheap

And fast.

He feels old and young at the same time.

He feels older than Zayn because he’s just too pretty.

Far too pretty, and Liam’s in love.

Far too soon

“Do you hear me?” Zayn asks

Liam looks up at him and nods.

Says

“Yeah.

I like you, too.”

Zayn frowns, cocking his head to the side.

The sheet drops and he’s sliding on a pair of underwear

Maybe they’re his, maybe they’re Liam’s

Zayn doesn’t seem to care.

His body visibly shivers from the cool breeze blowing through the open window.

He wraps himself back up into the sheet and leans out the window, lighting up a cigarette and blowing smoke into the wind.

Liam doesn’t think he could be a day over sixteen.

Too young for lung caner

Too young for anything really.

“Sucks that I’m leaving Sunday, yeah?” he says.

Sunday

This weekend

Four days from now.

“Sunday?” Liam asks

“This weekend?”

Zayn looks his way “Yeah. I’m only here visiting my dad. I told you that at the party.”

Liam nods.

Oh.

“Yeah.”

Zayn shrugs his shoulders

Takes another hit off the cigarette

Smiles around a puff of smoke and says

“Well, at least we have now.”

And nothing else.

Liam knows his type

Zayn is trendy and sort of smart in that way that sort of reminds Liam of old poetry.

He’s pretty.

He’s young.

Liam’s got three years on him. Easy.

But he likes him and he doesn’t know why.

Zayn looks out the window and points at a bird.

“That can be ours, okay?”

Liam stands, sliding on the only other pair of underwear in the room and he thinks they belong to Zayn.

He follows the line of Zayn’s finger and he finds a pigeon.

“It’s just a pigeon. How can we tell if it’s ours?”

Zayn shrugs.

Doesn’t say anything.

He didn’t think that far.

_Okay, then._

Liam is getting ready to leave and before he’s out the door he writes his name and his phone number on a napkin

Pauses

Adds his address just in case.

“Call me or something,” he says.

Zayn nods, his eyes drift toward the napkin

Says

“Sure thing.”

Liam knows he isn’t going to and he’s only saying that to be polite.

And so he smiles and waves and Zayn kisses him good bye before Liam is out the door and leaving the house forever.

But

Liam wants him to call.

Or write

Or something

Anything.

But he knows it won’t happen because Zayn is just like the rest of them

He’s just a “Type A” boy from a “Type A” town with “Type A” friends and

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

He’s probably already forgotten Liam’s name and when he sees the paper by chance on the way out the door Sunday morning Zayn is probably going to find himself wondering who the hell Liam Payne is.

And he won’t even care to figure it out because he’s just another boy from a party who likes to dance and smoke cigarettes.


End file.
